Hola todos! Por que no puedo adivinar como cambiar mi post original, voy a hacer una nueva post para que sea en Espanol. Hola, Todos! Yo me llamo Hillary y soy de Arizona. Pues, en realidad, soy de Nueva York, pero he estado viviendo en Mesa desde que me case. He sido casada por casi 10 a~nos ye tengo nina quien cumplo 7 a~nos el mes pasado. Estoy en mi semestre final de la universidad y mi deseo es al graduar antes de que mi nina se gradua!. Suerte a todos y estoy animada al llegar a conocerles.

My Epiphany

While I was listening to the radio the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” song came on. My mind began to think about the lyrics and I began to feel appalled that Christmas infidelity was being promoted. That disgusting woman, tickling under Santa’s beard? And the child, just thinking how funny it would be if Daddy saw all of this. So sad! Shame on that harlot! I was sickened and angry when it suddenly occurred to me; it was Daddy dressed up like Santa! And then I felt like an idiot, which feeling was confirmed when I told Frankie the story. That’s my confession.

What is your favorite Christmas song?

Really?

I have unnatural phobias and I rock back and forth when I panic. I need psychiatric assistance and chemical intervention. This is old news. Live in the now!

So, one of my neurotic triggers is the conjunction of the words “bed” and “bug.” Recently, I was listening to talk radio as I drove home from dropping Darby off at school. It is weird for me to listen to talk radio because I am acutely aware of the negative impact it has on my mental state, but for whatever reason I turned on the station of doom and gloom. In His infinite wisdom, God had me hear the following as I passed the public library that Darby and I visit weekly. “Mesa’s main public library has been closed due to a bedbug infestation.”

You have got to be freaking kidding me right now.

Upon my arrival home, I ripped the sheets off of each of the beds and fought the urge to rock back and forth as I searched for signs of the intruders. Nothing. Thank you, Heavenly Father.

The following day, my back began to itch. Now, multiple sclerosis is just brimming with sweet little surprises, including phantom itchy spots which, for me, always manifest on my back. I had Frankie look me over to make sure that there were no red marks or anything that might otherwise explain the phenomenon, but there was nothing. I was grateful that it was just the ms itch and I went about my day. When I woke up the next morning with 9 red spots on my back, I was less calm.

After much research, Frank was sure that there was nothing to indicate that we had brought home the plague of the public library. You know, except for the 9 bug bites on my back. I, however, was less convinced. I searched Darby over and she was clean. Frankie was not itching. I bounce back and forth between Darby’s bed and Frankie’s bed all night (notice that I have no bed that I claim as my own), so it didn’t make sense that they were fine and I was wrecked. Anyway, the spots were getting worse and Frankie suggested that I go to the doctor.

Poor Frank. It was his birthday and we were sitting in the doctor’s office together. I, of course, was rocking back and forth on the exam table as we awaited the verdict. The medical assistant asked why I was in that day as she readied the blood pressure cuff. I told her I had bug bites or a rash and we weren’t sure what it was. I then asked her, “Do you sort of want to wash your hands right now?” She laughed and said, “Well, it’s not on your arm.” I’m sure she washed her hands upon leaving the room. I mean, you say the word “rash” and you want to wash your hands. And she was touching rash-girl, so I can’t blame her.

It was taking a long time for the doctor to enter the room and Frankie said that they were probably all outside playing rock/paper/scissors to see who had to look at the girl with the rash. That made me laugh so hard! That Frankie can always diffuse a situation.

When the doc entered the exam room, he said, “You know, I have to say that when I walked in here, you were both smiling. That almost never happens when I walk into an exam room, so thank you.” When I told him about the itch and the mysterious bites, he said, “You have shingles.” He then looked at my back for half a second and said, “Yeah, you have shingles.”

Freaking shingles? Are you for real?

I promptly asserted that Frankie was my only sexual partner so there was no way I could have an STD :). Luckily, the doctor knew I was kidding. Shingles is adult chicken pox. If you had chicken pox as a child, the virus lives dormant (usually) in you for the rest of your life. It can manifest again in adulthood as shingles if you are elderly or have a compromised immune system. My injection is an immune suppressor, so bingo. Mystery solved.

Frankie said, “Hillary, of course you have a disease that causes another disease!” He sure has to put up with a lot.

Luckily, you cannot pass shingles to anyone who has had chicken pox or the vaccination. Frankie had the pox and Darby has had the vaccination. Phew because you know I would have had a break-down right then.

I had to cancel the birthday babysitter because it would just be irresponsible to expose her and her children to the possibility of chicken pox, especially not knowing their vaccination history. Frank was a trooper, though. What a good man.

But, I must say that because I was sure we had acquired a pestilence of Biblical proportions, i was even extra happy and relieved to find out it was just shingles. My dad said, “That doctor was probably really curious about how happy you were that you just had shingles!”

True story.

I think Heavenly Father orchestrated that series of events just for a good laugh. I mean, I’m pretty comical when I get anxious and I like the thought of giving my Heavenly Father a good belly laugh. I believe that humor is a gift.

So, do you have anything gross and contagious?

Love and Marriage

Lately, Darby is very interested in marriage. That is a little disturbing, but what do you do? So anyway, she keeps choosing a husband, then changing her mind. She was going to marry Thomas, but she changed her mind. When Frankie asked her why she changed her mind, she said, “Cause he’s kind of mean and I don’t think he’d be a good dad.”

Isn’t that interesting? She is choosing a spouse based on the kind of father she thinks he’ll be? Man, my girl is on it!

So, she decided that she’d marry Cooper. I must say that she has good taste in boys; both Thomas and Cooper are darling. But there is a problem. Cooper wants to marry Anna. This doesn’t seem to hurt Darby’s feelings, so that is good. I can’t figure out why Cooper would choose Anna over Darby, but maybe that’s just because I’m Darby’s mom. Probably not, though. Darby is way cuter and cooler. There, I said it.

So the other day, Cooper and Darby are swinging on the swings before school (you know I hover, so of course I am there) and out of the blue, Cooper says to me, “I’m going to marry Anna.” I said, “You are?” and he replied with, “Yeah. Cause when you get married, you get to push pie in the person’s face and I want to push pie into Anna’s face!”

Mystery solved. And therein lies a microcosm of girl/boy relationships. Darby chooses a husband based on his potential for being a good father and Cooper chooses a wife based on whose face he wants to push pie into.

Later, I explained to Darby why Cooper wants to marry Anna. She was surprised that people push pie (or cake) into the other person’s face, and then she looked worried.

“Does Boston know that?” (Boston is a little boy in her class). I said that I didn’t know and she said, “Well, don’t tell him that or he WILL want to marry me!”

Aw. Young love.

Fear Revisited

Whoa, guys. Whoa. I know we’ve talked about this before, and we’ll talk about it again, but I am freaking scared of lizards. I can trace it back to an incident where, as a child, I was mercilessly attacked by a massive gila monster with red eyes and sharpened claws. It ran at me on two legs, like a raptor. The blood and carnage seemed endless and I prayed for sweet death. At least that’s how I remember it. It might have just been a regular lizard running out from under a bush and startling me, but how can we determine the truth after all these years? Anyway, I was going to shred a box full of papers that has been sitting in the garage for an unforgiveable amount of time (best afternoon of Haley’s life, right?!) and as I moved it, a little lizard came running out from behind the box. I started having flash-backs and right before my post-traumatic stress set in, I remember saying in sort of a growl, “Whoa!” and then I ran inside and locked the door. The growl is what surprised me most. That was strange and I’m super glad that Frankie was not there to hear it. It was definitely not a turn-on.

Aside from that, all is well. The Darb is enjoying kindergarten and kicking butt (literally---she had to sit on the bench during recess for the sake of the other children’s safety). I am really proud of her. My semester is off to a slower start as my math class is self-paced, so naturally I have yet to look at it. My English class is a memoir writing class and that is fun since I can’t get enough of myself. All the essay ideas I have, though, seem to revolve around poop, underwear, or a mixture of the two (intrigued?). I am pretty immature at my ripe old age of 31. Frankie is doing great and we are just waiting for a cool down out here in mesa. I am usually pretty good with the heat (you know, I stay indoors or go swimming, so it is no big deal for this princess), but after the last few weeks of “excessive heat” warnings, I’m getting pretty sweaty.

I guess that’s it. Are you still awake?

Baptism By Fire

Actually, my most recent baptism was by water. In the pool. Performed by Darby. I figured it was okay since she doesn't hold the proper authority, but I'm going to feel really bad for all of you if when we get there we find out that she actually does hold some type of authority.

I didn't encourage it, for any reader who is feeling particularly judgey today. She just did it, with her hand in the air and said, "We love Darby." Then she dunked me. And I felt strange; powerful.

Just kidding.

I did take the opportunity to teach a lesson or two, in case anyone thinks I'm going to hell for allowing it. Then again, I've been baptized twice, so I don't really think that I can go to hell, sucka!

The Grudge

When I am finally debilitated by my multiple sclerosis, wearing a diaper and being pushed around in a wheelchair, I'm going to remind Darby of the comment she made to me today.

"Mom, that dinner was disgusting. And so are you."

For real? That hardly felt necessary.

And THAT is why I am going to lay the guilt on her as thick as I can. I'll follow that story up with the one about the 71 hours of labor that I suffered to bring her into this world. Then I might fall out of my wheelchair and fake my death for a few days, just to drive the point home.

I'm going to title my parenting manual, "Love and Logic? That's Crap." What do you think?

(for the record, i'll probably actually just cry about it later. please tell me your kids are mean to you, too!)